


Familiarity Breeds...

by Corycides



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: AU, F/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-18
Updated: 2016-01-31
Packaged: 2017-12-29 19:33:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1009195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corycides/pseuds/Corycides
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The lights never went out, but Charlie still ends up going to her Uncle Miles when things go wrong at home. Only Miles' isn't the one home during the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Thursday (Notation)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Notation/gifts).



_‘Well, what **do** you want?’_

Every argument ended with that question and the impatient, condescending tilt of her mother’s neat, blonde brow. Charlie didn’t have an answer. She just knew what she didn’t want: anything her family did. Eventually she figured the process of elimination would work it out. Her parents couldn’t accept that.

_‘While you live in our house, you’ll do as you’re told.’_

That was always Dad, the final word on any disagreement. It was like living with the Cleavers if they had science degrees. His was the no to sleepovers with her friends, parties at school or a year out before she had to decide anything.

_‘I’ve left home, Uncle Miles. Can I stay with you?’_

* * *

 

Charlie loped downstairs in sleep-shorts and an old t-shirt, white cotton gone grey and with a hole under the arm. It was heady to be a slob. To wear what she wanted and get up when she wanted. She headed over to the fridge and grabbed a carton of orange juice. When she closed the fridge again she found herself face to face with a confused looking girl.

Big hair, big eye-lashes and big - Charlie glanced down briefly - everything else. One of Bass’ over-night conquests. Usually he’d shooed them out by now, but sometimes he passed out first.

‘Um, hi,’ the Bassbette said, twiddling her hair around her finger.

‘Hey,’ Charlie said, taking a swig from the carton. It was gross, but she was the only one in the house that cared about scurvy. ‘Good night?’

‘Oh, I guess...’ the Bassbette was still staring at her. Big brown eyes flickered from Charlie’s hair to her mouth and then eyes. Oh god, did she think Charlie was, like, Mrs Monroe or something? Before that idea had time to blossom into something terrible, the Bassbette wriggled her finger back and forth between them. ‘Did we…? I mean, did you...’

It took a second for that particular ball to drop. When it did Charlie choked on her orange. ‘Oh, god no. My uncle or Bass. Not me.’

The Bassbette sighed in relief. ‘Thank God, you look about 15.’

‘I’m 21?’

That got a frank appraisal from her toes to her sleep ruffled ponytail. ‘Really?’

After escorting the still vague Bassbette out to her car, Charlie went upstairs and got changed for her morning run. She liked running, but it wasn’t much help with the ‘what do you want to do’ question. It wasn’t like you could make a career out of running away.

Although Mom always did say that Bass could go professional in running away from commitment.

Charlie followed her usual route, down the block and through the park, and by the time she got him Bass was up for the day. More or less. She snuck a glance at him under her lashes as she headed through the living room: bare feet, jeans dangerously low around his hips and a bare chest. He looked like the man every mother warned you about.

He had been the example that Charlie's mom used, actually.

'Morning, Charlotte,' he said lazily, knuckling sleep out of his eye. The coffee machine gurgled encouragingly behind him. 'Up early.'

'It's half eleven.'

He grinned through a jaw-clicking yawn. Like I said, up early.'

She rolled her eyes at him on the way by, he just smirked and scratched his belly. His hand slid down, thumb hooking in his his jeans. Charlie tripped over her own feet. She caught herself, heat scalding her face, and he laughed at her.

Ugh. She wasn't sure if he was just laughing at her for being a klutz or because he had caught her gawking. Neither was great.

It wasn't her fault. Bass Monroe was just...disconcerting. It wasn't that he was good-looking. Her boyfriend was good-looking, but Jason just lacked that almost aggressive self-confidence that bagged bimbos by the handful. And Jason was...nice, not dangerous and bad for you and...

She was staring. Bass was definitely smirking.

Charlie tugged the elastic band out of her hair, letting her hair flop over her shoulders, and stalked upstairs. When she'd moved in with her uncle - and yeah, she'd seen the fraught glances over the turkey and heard the rows, but her Dad was her Dad - she'd not really expected to have to share the space with Marine McSexy back there. Him and Miles' had fallen out years ago - over something - and it was only last year that Bass had gotten back in touch.

Only apparently, Bass now lived here and for an old guy he was...hot.

Boyfriend, Charlie reminded herself firmly. Nice, patient boyfriend - even if he was one of the things she didn't know if she wanted.

She went into her room, flopping out on the bed and called Danny. He had that careful 'mom is here' note in his voice, and asked all the mom-expected questions 'when are you coming home?' questions, like he was 8 instead of 18. Mom questions, not Danny. Charlie cut the call shut. If she wanted to talk to Rachel, she would have called Rachel.

* * *

 

'Why are you here?' Charlie asked, perching on the arm of the couch. Bass was sprawled out on it with a half drunk bottle of beer on his chest. For once he was wearing a shirt but his feet werestill bare. It was weirdly distracting. He had nice feet and all, but they were just feet. He glanced away from the TV and raised an eyebrow at her.

'Could ask you the same question,'

She shrugged and slid down onto the couch, Bass equably moving his feet to give her room. 'I don't know where else to go.'

'Maybe neither do I.'

Charlie gave him a sceptical look. 'You've been places, done stuff, already.'

'Yeah, well, I’m not doing that stuff anymore,' he shrugged. She thought about asking. Miles would never tell her what he used to do, but she had a feeling that Bass might. In the end, she didn't. It probably wasn't her business. 'And since I don't plan on dying just yet...'

'You could work for Uncle Miles in the security firm.'

He snorted and took a swig of beer. 'Tried that before. It was a bad idea.'

Fixing someone else's life looked much more fun than trying to fix her own. Charlie pulled her legs up under her and stared at Bass thoughtfully. He watch her with that amused, tolerant expression that made her feel like he thought she was still a little kid. It gave her the twitchy, anxious impulse to prove him wrong. She leaned forwards and snagged the beer from his hands, taking a swig from it.

'Are you old enough for that?'

'I'm 21,' she said irritably. 'I am old enough for anything.'

Something slid through his pale eyes and Charlie had to squelch the urge to squirm in place. He wasn't looking at her like she was a little kid anymore. Heat flushed up from her stomach as he propped himself up on his elbow and...took his beer back.

'Old enough to buy your own beer, then.'

Charlie let out a relieved - definitely relieved - breath. She twisted the ends of her hair around her fingers. ‘You could join the police.’

‘Record.’

‘Really?’

He grinned at her over the mouth of his bottle. It made Charlie’s breath hitch. God, he was pretty when he smiled.

‘Really,’ he said.

‘What?’

He just shook his head and filled his mouth with beer. That meant either Miles, or Rachel, had been involved. Knowing that just made Charlie more curious, but Bass wouldn’t be drawn.

* * *

 

Miles was late.

For the sixth time in an hour, Charlie peered out her bedroom window. No cherry red mustang in the drive way, no laid-back uncle shrugging off questions about where he’d been and definitely no time to get home for a family Sunday dinner.

Unless…

She could have called Jason - he would have come to get her, even if they were currently, technically, on a break - instead she went and tap-hammered on Bass’ door. That was probably something she should think about, but not today.

After a long few minutes she heard him groan, curse and the creak of him getting out of bed. He yanked the door open, warm air and the stink of sweat, beer and Bass filling Charlie’s nose, and blinked at her, from her ferociously straightened hair to her pretty, strappy sandals.

‘I don’t want to fight with my mom,’ she said defensively.

His gaze made the way back up to her face and he shrugged bare shoulders. He was one to talk. All he was wearing was a dragging sheet twisted closed at his hip, the smell of last night still on his skin.

‘You look properly suburban,’ he said. ‘Congratulations.’

He started to swing the door over, Charlie blocked it with her shoulder. ‘I don’t need your approval. Just a lift.’

That request got her a distinctly dubious look. She gave him her best pleading look in return.

'Please?'

Bass growled, a low, irritated sound that started somewhere low in his chest, and glared. She dug her heels. 'One lift.'

'Learn to drive.'

‘I can drive. Just not...right now.’

That amused him enough to lift the corner of his mouth and one eyebrow. ‘That sounds like a story.’

‘It’s not,’ Charlie insisted. ‘It’s 20 mins away.’

He scruffed his hand through his hair, making his curls stand on end. ‘Charlotte…’

‘You can stay for dinner,’ she bargained. ‘Watch mom’s face.’

That made him snort. ‘I know your mother. She’d put ground glass in my pie. Fine. Just let me get dressed.’

He turned round and headed back to the bed, letting the sheet drop. Charlie caught a quick, startled breath at seeing his ass, tight and hard muscled still, with a stippling of scar tissue running down one thigh.

‘Close the door, Charlotte,’ he said, not looking round. ‘Or come in. One or the other.’

She closed it, and then stared at it for a minute, wondering what he would have done if she’d gone in. Her mind came up with enough ideas that she flushed and ducked downstairs, grabbing a soda out of the fridge. She turned it nervously in her hands, fingers sliding through the chill condensation, until Bass loped downstairs in jeans and a t-shirt with no holes in it.

‘I’m taking the bike,’ he said, looking at her with an oddly challenging expression. ‘You ok with that, Charlotte.’

‘In for a penny, in for give Mom an aneurysm,’ Charlie shrugged. ‘You have a spare helmet?’

‘The bikes gets me a lot of girls,’ he said.

She took that as a yes. It wasn’t anything as recognisable as a Harley, just an old modded out black bike that thrummed between Charlie’s thighs and vibrated between their bodies. Charlie clung to Bass, arms wrapped tight around his lean waist, and tried not to think about sex or the clench of her thighs or how she’d not really wanted to go to this dinner anyhow. Not really.

It was a nice suburban home. There were two cars in the drive, both sensible, safety tested rides, and a well-manicured lawn. Bass pulled up onto the drive behind Mom’s Ford and swore softly under his breath, voice ragged.

‘What?’

‘Just get off the bike, Charlotte.’ His voice was tight. Angry or…

Charlie did as she was told, pulling her hiked up skirt back down over slim thighs. She caught Bass watching out of the corner of his eye, teeth worrying at his lower lip.

‘I’m not a little kid,’ she said.

Bass heaved a sigh and sat up, moving like something hurt. ‘I can see that,’ he said roughly. ‘Your uncle would kill me-’

‘He’s dating someone who’s only five years older than me,’ Charlie said, stepping closer. ‘And he doesn’t tell me what to do.’

She brushed her hand over Bass’ shoulder, feeling the clench and heat of muscle under his old grey hoodie. It was soft against her fingers as she twisted it around her fist.

‘Your mom hates me.’

‘I’m not asking you to marry me.’

‘What are you asking?’

She didn't know - not really. It was just that he listened to her and he a scar on his thigh she wanted to lick and he'd dragged his hungover ass out of bed to do her a favour. So Charlie kissed him, dragging him in closer and feeling the scrape of stubble against her lips. Despite his protests his hand came up hook around her hip, pulling her in until she was straddling his leg. She wrapped her arm around his neck, burying her fingers in his hair, and moaned over his tongue as he nipped her lips apart with sharp white teeth.

He was too old for her, too experienced and too...whatever he’d been doing after he argued with Miles. There were a whole lot of reasons this was a bad idea, but after months of thinking in negatives this was a positive.

She didn’t know what the hell else she wanted to do, but she wanted to kiss Bass.

She was so distracted she didn’t hear the door open, not until her mom’s strangled yelp cut through the suburban din of lawnmowers and kids.

Charlotte Anne Matheson!’

 


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie woke up on silk sheets, with a head full of champagne fumes and a vague sense of politely loitering dread. She rolled onto her back, throwing an arm over her eyes to block out the ice picks of morning sunlight. 

She remembered the taste of cinnamon toothpaste on her tongue and a rough hand on the nape of her neck; Rachel’s barely throttled fury, and a charred roast dinner that ended with too much truth and the taste of salt in the back of Charlie’s throat.

Pain hitched in Charlie’s chest at  _ that  _ memory. It was nothing she hadn’t known - at some level - but she hadn’t expected it to come out over cold custard, for fuck’s sake. She sniffed and rubbed her hand over her itchy eyes, ring bumping over the bridge of her nose.

Bass had gotten her out-

Her train of thought stuttered into reverse. Lifting her arm Charlie opened her eyes, squinting through her lashes at her fingers. A delicate, shiny ring decorated her finger. She squeezed her eyes shut until she saw blobs of colour, trying to convince herself the ring was on her little finger. It wasn’t.

‘Oh fuck,’ she muttered, sitting up. Nervous hands grabbed at the sheet, bunching the black silk up around her as she scrambled off the bed. It trailed behind her as she went darting towards the bathroom, changing her mind and lunging for the bed as she realised there was someone already in there.

Her plan, if you wanted to call it that, had been to pretend to still be asleep. She wasn’t entirely sure how that was going to help, but it seemed better than any of her other options...like dealing with this. The door opened when she was still mid-step, bringing her to a stumbling halt as a half-naked Bass stepped into the room.

Actually, she thought as her gaze dipped from his face and down his lean, hard chest to the fold of white that hung low over his hipbones. Charlie took a deep breath, catching her lower lip between her teeth, and supposed that at least her black-outs had good taste.

‘Well, at least it’ll take mom’s mind off me kissing you,’ she said. Bass snorted with laughter, then bit the sound back behind his lips. He caught the towel at his hip, tugging it up in an half-hearted attempt at modesty.

‘Charlie-’

‘Are we in Vegas? And did we…’

He switched anchoring hands on his towel and flashed the heavier, matching ring on his own finger. ‘Apparently.’

‘That’s a relief,’ Charlie said, sitting down on the bed.

Bass raised his eyebrows. ‘Really?’

‘Given the alternative that I lost more than a day,  _ and  _ married and mislaid a stranger?’ Charlie said, tucking her feet up under her. ‘Yeah, really.’

He snorted and shoved his hand through his hair, wet hair curling erratically around his fingers. There was a scar on his ribs, a stuttered line of raised white tissue that ran halfway to his armpit. A round blob of raised, shiny skin on his bicep, about the size of Charlie’s thumb. It made her stomach knot in some odd reaction to the casual exposure of his body to her. He signed. ‘I don’t think anyone else is going to agree, Charlie.’

_ The taste of salt in the back of her throat; Ben yelling like if he could just drown her out Rachel wouldn’t have said it. _

Charlie twisted her mouth into something that wasn’t quite a smile and lifted her chin. ‘Fuck ‘em. I’m 22, not 12. If I want to get drunk married in Vegas, that’s my god-given right.’

‘You think Miles is going to agree with that?’ he asked. ‘He isn’t going to give  _ me  _ the benefit of the doubt, Charlie. He never does.’

Not going to lie, it stung having a hot guy pick her uncle over her. Charlie got it though. Miles was the only family that Bass had left, and the only person who’d give him a bed to sleep on while he was putting himself back together. 

‘Look, Miles doesn’t have to know,’ she said, standing up. The ring fit well, but she was able to twist it off. The silver glittered as she set it on the bedside table. ‘It’s Vegas, getting a divorce is as easy as getting married.’

Bass stared at the disregarded ring for a second, jaw working, then his attention flicked back to her. ‘I think we can still pull an annulment,’ he said. ‘I’m pretty sure we were both too drunk to do anything last night.’

It probably wasn’t any better of a plan than the ‘pretend to still be asleep’ one, but what happened in Vegas stayed in Vegas, right? Charlie let go of the sheet, cold silk sliding down her skin to puddle at her feet. A ragged sound escaped Bass as his eyes followed it down, lingering on the bare, tanned curves of her body.

‘Charlie…’ he licked his lips and forced his gaze back up. ‘This is a bad idea.’

She shrugged - his eyes darting back down to the shift of her breasts - and stepped out of the knot of sheet. Tripping over it and landing on her face was  _ not  _ the seductive move she wanted to make right now.

‘I don’t care. I want this.’ It was her turn to look down, the betraying rise of his cock against the towel curling her mouth into a particularly satisfied smile. ‘You want this. No one else has to know. Come on, Bass, it’s our wedding night. We might as well enjoy it.’

‘It’s morning,’ he growled, but he was already stalking across the floor. The towel hit the floor and they both hit the bed. 

He was damp, skin cool where it touched her, and his hair dripped a wet trail down Charlie’s stomach as he kissed her way down to the crux of her thighs. It tickled as he growled a resigned ‘this is a bad idea’ into her belly button. When he vent lower, Charlie swore, the sound strangled in her throat, and twisted her fists in the bedding. His hands gripped the back of her thighs, holding her in place as the stubble on his jaw scraped her thighs and mouth sucked sweetly at her wet flesh.

His tongue thrust into her in short, quick jabs that made her gasp and arch. She hooked her legs over his shoulders, her heels pressing against the hard lines of his back.  Liquid heat squirmed inside her, catching at the arch of her hips and in her belly. 

‘Please,’ she whimpered, voice rough in her throat, as she chewed on her lower lip. ‘God, Bass, please. That’s...just, please.’

He laughed, the sound vibrating through her, and traced patterns on her thighs with his thumbs. Charlie could feel the cold of his ring cold against her skin. It made her body tighten with quick, eager want that she wasn’t going to question.

The wet, firm swipe of his tongue traced patterns between her legs, making her squirm and gasp under him. She arched up off the bed, a low, ragged noise clawing out of her, as she came. 

After months of judging them, she was starting to feel like one of his fluffy Bassbettes. They weren’t dumb after all, just fucked senseless.

Bass pressed one last kiss between her legs and then pushed himself up onto his knees. His cock curved up from his thighs, hard and tight for her. Charlie laughed - a breathy hiccup of sound - and ran her fingers up his thighs, feeling the muscles clench under her hands.

‘Marine McSexy,’ she said. ‘All mine for-’

She tilted her head to the side, trying to make out the hours until check out. Bass caught her hands and pinned them down on the bed next to her shoulders, his body sprawled heavily on top of her. The nudge of his cock against her tummy scattered her thoughts, everything clenching with wanting him.

‘I’m not your toy soldier, Charlie,’ he growled against her throat, scraping his teeth against the tender skin until it stung. ‘I’m not some safe, sexless calendar page that you can just turn.’

Something about that didn’t match what they were doing, but Charlie couldn’t drag enough of her wits together to put her finger on what exactly. She turned her head, lips grazing over his jaw and finding the corner of his mouth.

‘Nothing sexless about Marine McSexy,’ she told him.  ‘You know how many nights I  _ didn’t  _ sleep listening to you fucking?’

He smirked and shifted on top of her, nudging his cock between her thighs. The rub of him against her wet lips made her hiss and bite her lips.

‘Jealous, Mrs Monroe?’ he teased, letting go of her hands.

Kinda teased. Charlie felt the name settle between them, half day-dream and half something that would tension like a wire through Bass. He’d been married before, or almost married - like everything else, him and Miles only talked about by  _ not  _ talking about it. It had ended - badly or sadly or both.

Charlie took her breath, wondering if this maybe had been a bad idea. Then Bass buried his hand in her hair, twisting his fingers in the thick mass until he pulled her head back, and kissed all the thoughts out of her head. His mouth was rough, all stubble and teeth, and tasted of her and mint toothpaste.

Her hands clenched on his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

Reaching down between them, Bass opened her up with his fingers. She whimpered into his mouth, then gasped as he buried his cock inside with one, slow stroke that set of cramps of pleasure through her body. Her hands tightened on him, nails digging into his skin, and she mouthed his name into his mouth.

Bass hooked his arm under her leg, lifting it so he could bury himself deeper inside her . His mouth bit bruises down her neck and over her collarbone, leaving wet bruises on the curve of her breasts. Charlie rocked her hips up into his thrusts, hipbones bumping, and left rake marks on his back. His breath was hot and ragged against her skin.

Her nerves felt scraped raw where he touched her, electricity alive under her skin, and she wanted more of him. Pleasure pulled wire-tight through her, thrumming on the razor’s edge of climax. He came first, burying himself so deep inside her that for a second it hurt. She clenched around him and felt the hot spill of come inside her.

The weight of him sprawled out on top of her, the pinned pressure of it twisting the spring of orgasm tighter in the cup of her thighs. A wet kiss brushed her throat, then he pushed himself up. She whined, a soft exhale of sound, as his cock slid out of her. Her body clenched, cramping so hard that it made her shudder.

Clever, rough fingered hands nudged her wet thighs apart and dipped inside her. She grabbed his wrist, feeling the tendons working against her fingertips, to...stop him, show him what to do. She didn’t really know, and before she could decide the scrape of his thumb over her clit spilled her over into the second orgasm. It twisted through her, clenching her around him so tight that he laughed, and it left her shaking and breathless.

‘Worth the wait?’ he asked.

She laughed and rolled over on top of him, straddling his lean waist. Both hands braced against his chest, and she opened her mouth to make a joke about the divorce.

‘Monroe!’ Miles roared, kicking the door to the bedroom open. ‘What the fuck do you think you’re doing?!’

Instinct made Charlie flinch, but Bass grabbed her ass in both hands and squeezed. 

‘Fucking my wife,’ he growled. Some alpha male bullshit made him sound possessive. ‘You mind?’


End file.
